Antithesis
by Hurricane-chan
Summary: Vanus Galerion, founder of the Mage's Guild and legendary hero. Mannimarco, first undead lich and King of Worms. An exploration of the unique relationship between these two as time passes, from their beginnings on the Isle of Artaeum to that final, decisive battle. Slash.
1. Time and Trials

**A/N: Good day! I am Hurricane-chan, and for those of you who are reading this for the first time, welcome! For those of you who have to go on this page to get to the new chapter, I'm sorry it took me so long to adjust the formatting issues on this one. XD I have my moments. **

**This idea came to me while playing Skyrim, oddly enough. I read 'Galerion the Mystic' and wondered, "Well, what was his life _really _like? I mean, Mannimarco seemed really interested in him in Oblivion!" **

**So, I decided to write about it. And make it slash.**

**I have no shame. Whatsoever.**

**Well, enough of me. Enjoy!**

**I DON'T OWN ANYTHING.**

* * *

◊_Prologue_◊

_Fires. Ashes of knowledge floating weightlessly into the night sky. Weeks of running, smuggling and hiding. The discoveries. The hanging. The end of his family, the end of his life as he knew it…_

Trechtus's lungs burned. He could barely breathe as his legs carried him away from his home, fueled on further only by the thought of his father hanging from a tree in the center of the village. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach, but he couldn't afford to stop so close to the border. Once Lord Gyrnasse's guards knew he had escaped, he'd be dead, too. They didn't care that he'd only lived eight years. Fallen leaves crunched beneath his small feet as he fled through the forest, looking back every so often to make sure he wasn't being followed by anyone. When he had made it far enough away so that he could no longer see the outline of the village through the tall trees, he leaned against one, sinking to the ground in a heap. Though the skies above him had been clear when he'd left that morning, a rumble of thunder sounded, heralding rain and lighting from the heavens. He pulled his knees in close to his thin body, letting his head rest on them. In the midst of the droplets falling from the clouds, a child cried unashamedly, tears flowing from his wide, sea-green eyes.

* * *

Heliand felt like something momentous was going to happen to him. He had even told the rest of his group so. The golden blonde Altmer couldn't explain _why_ he felt like that, he just did. Most of the others wrote it off as a side-effect of his training in mysticism, some residual magic hanging on from his old days as a mage. Heliand brushed them off with a wave of his hand. He knew when he was right.

The group of troubadours were on the road, hoping to reach the next city by nightfall. It was only just morning, so all had positive expectations; they were ahead of schedule. Heliand could hear them laughing behind him as he lead them on, walking his horse, reins in hand. It warmed his heart to hear their happiness. Every single one of them had lived a rough life, and it was a good sign that all of them could bring themselves to be cheerful again. Smile on his handsome features, he allowed himself to get lost in the thoughts of their performance in the next city. He longed to sing again.

Heliand was drawn out of his musings when his horse stopped short, ears forward and eyes wide.

"Mallari," he said to the stallion, stroking his nose, "What's the matter?"

The tall horse didn't avert his gaze from where it was pinned. He was staring off to the side of the road, at an unknown object off the shoulder of the path. It was rather large, dark in colour with no discernible features. As indeterminate as its appearance was, it had made Mallari curious. He had to at least investigate.

Noticing that their leader had halted suddenly, the entire group followed suit. Heliand handed Mallari's reins off to another member and walked forward toward the object cautiously, leather boots making little noise on the gravel. When he neared it, he gasped in surprise.

"Nereidan, Breylinor! Come over here!" he yelled. Two other mer came running to him, questioning looks on their faces.

"What in Oblivion's name is it, Heliand?" Nereidan asked, breathless, "You never sound this nervous." Breylinor nodded in agreement, running a hand through his thick, auburn hair.

Heliand didn't say any more, instead stood back, pointing to the object on the ground. The object wasn't an object at all, but a child. His filthy clothes were torn to shreds, stained in places with splotches of blood. His long, dark hair was matted to his head, unwashed. The trio of Altmer realized with stomach-twisting horror that he was still bleeding, a wide river of red running out from his pale, parted lips and his pointed nose. Heliand knelt down next to the child, placing two long fingers on his neck. A frown on his face, he stood.

"He's still alive," he said, "but only just. He needs help now if he's going to survive."

The blonde's two companions looked shocked.

"We can't take in anyone else," Breylinor noted, "We can barely feed ourselves on the money we earn. You think we can afford another mouth to feed?"

Heliand ignored his friend and bent down to the child, easily scooping him up.

"I couldn't care, Breylinor. I'm not going to leave him here to die. He can have my rations if it comes down to it."

Breylinor rolled his eyes, but followed his leader back to the awaiting group. Heliand's heart sunk as he looked at the small, broken body in his arms. It was clear that the boy had been through Oblivion and back. He was curious as to where the child was from and what had put him in such a condition, but he refrained from attempting to wake him. He walked slowly through his group, drawing eyes as he made his way to the caravan in the back.

He managed to get himself and the dying child inside the wooden carriage, laying him down carefully on one of the cushioned benches.

"Lead them on," he said to Nereidan and Breylinor as they appeared in the doorway, "I've got to tend to his wounds."

Breylinor opened his mouth to make another comment, but held his tongue when he received an angry glare from Heliand's amber eyes.

"Go."

* * *

Trechtus slowly opened his eyes, realizing that the light he was rushing towards was no longer present. The image that formed before him instead left him curious; a wooden ceiling, the sensation of moving…and the calm, concentrated face of an adult Altmer leaning over his arm with glowing light emanating from his long fingertips. The youthful mer sat up with urgency, eyes swollen with sudden fear. Where was he? Who was this man? Why wasn't he in pain anymore?

"Relax, relax," said his attendant, brushing locks of aureate hair behind his pointed ears as he raised his hands in a placating gesture, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Breathing rapidly, Trechtus looked warily at the man. He backed up as far as he could, spine hitting the wooden wall of the carriage.

"Where am I?" he asked timidly, voice trembling like his hands.

"In the interior of a carriage, on the way to our next performance," the other mer said, smiling, "We found you on the side of the road, nearly dead. I've been healing your wounds for the past day and a half. You had many, so it's taken quite some time." He outstretched a refined hand to Trechtus, steady and reassuring.

"My name is Heliand," he spoke warmly, "And yours?"

Trechtus looked at the offered hand, then back to his face, unsure. Deciding that, one: he was still alive, two: this mer had actually _healed_ his wounds, and three: he seemed nice enough, Trechtus accepted the handshake.

"Trechtus…" he said quietly, avoiding looking Heliand in the eyes.

"Well, Trechtus," Heliand said, standing, "Welcome. Take some time to rest up, you'll need it."

With that, the tall, golden Altmer stood and opened the carriage door, stepping out of the moving vehicle with practiced ease. Trechtus stared after him curiously.

_By the Nine,_ he thought, rubbing subconsciously at his now-healed arm, _What is this?_

* * *

"Trechtus!" came the yell from the group of songsters in the center of Pontasa. Heliand was waving at him, smile wide.

"Trechtus," he said, as the adolescent ran up to him, "Did you manage to get the lodgings sorted out?"

"Of course," Trechtus replied, re-tying the hair that had come loose when he ran, "The innkeeper arranged it all flawlessly, if I might say so."

"Good. Go and get some fruit for tonight's dessert, if you would. Don't forget to get some for yourself!" Heliand handed him a few coins and watched with delight as the lanky boy ran off once more into the busy streets.

"There's something different about him," he said to Nereidan who was chewing on sugar cane beside him.

"You think?" Nereidan replied, spitting out the rind, "He is awfully smart for eleven years of age. He went through every book we gave him in two days or less and he certainly seems to have a grasp on the arcane. I caught him practicing in the woods the other day. He's talented, that's for sure."

Nereidan looked at Heliand curiously, noticing the thoughtful look on his friend's face.

"What're you thinking, Hel?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

Heliand tilted his head as he searched for the proper way to answer.

"I'm thinking he deserves better than this."

"Like?"

Heliand bit his lip and looked at Nereidan, unsure.

"You remember how I trained with the Psijics when I was young?" he asked, averting his eyes to the cobblestone ground.

"Yes, of course. Why?"

"I never truly lost contact with them. I figured there'd be a day when I'd need them again, and I think that now might be that time. Trechtus is intelligent, a fast-learner…They…They could use someone like him. Give him a better life than anything we could ever offer."

Nereidan looked at Heliand incredulously, dropping the last of his sugar cane onto the street.

"You're going to give him to them? Are you sure that's the best idea? I mean, not many people trust them anymore. Do you think you should?"

Heliand nodded.

"My tutor, Iachesis, would be his as well. I trust him with my life."

Nereidan shook his head and sighed.

"Well, it's your decision. If you think it's what's best for the boy, then do it. Just keep your wits about you."

Heliand did his best to smile, heart twitching uncomfortably in his chest as Trechtus came trotting back towards him, half-eaten apple in his left hand.

"Trechtus," he said, trying his best to restrain his sadness, "We need to discuss something…"

* * *

Iachesis knew the boy was special as soon as Heliand had brought him through the grand doors of their tower on Artaeum. He looked at everything with calculating wonder, both curious and analytical. He had seemed hesitant at first, warily eyeing Iachesis's offered hand cautiously when they met. After Heliand had assured him that all was well, he accepted the greeting and began to talk quietly about what he knew and what he wished to learn. After their chat, the old teacher had smiled.

"From this moment on, you will leave the name 'Trechtus' behind you. You are above that, now."

Trechtus had looked up at him guardedly, unreadable expression on his face.

"You will be called Vanus Galerion, a name that befits someone as bright as you."

Vanus hadn't reacted to his new moniker at first, but bowed his head after a few tense moments.

"Thank you," he said solemnly, "Thank you for allowing me to study here."

It had been a week since then, and the young, dark haired mer had rarely strayed from his room. It was high noon on the Mondas of his second week in the study when Iachesis decided to pry him from his shell and introduce him to the rest of the Order.

"Vanus," he said, tapping lightly on the intricate door leading to the adolescent's room. He heard some shuffling before the door opened to reveal Vanus with a questioning look on his youthful features.

"Iachesis," he acknowledged with a nod of his head, "Is there something you need?"

Iachesis glanced around the shorter form into Vanus's room which appeared to be covered floor-to-ceiling in papers and books. He raised his greying eyebrows in surprise, but made no mention of it to his student.

"Actually, there is. Get yourself tidied up and presentable. I'm taking you to meet the rest of the Order."

Vanus Galerion's turquoise eyes widened. He nodded hastily, bowing lightly.

"Yes, sir," he replied, "I'll be downstairs in no time."

Iachesis gave him a smile before closing the door, laughing to himself when he heard the sound of books and papers crashing to the ground. Today would be interesting…

Vanus swallowed thickly as he was lead into a colossal, circular room. The windows were as tall as the wall, five in total framing a massive, cherrywood table in the center. At least fifteen Psijic mages sat at it, all staring directly at _him_. He felt awkward enough already, unruly hair tied back in a neat braid and dressed in impeccably clean white and gold robes that were given to all students. He couldn't maintain eye contact with any of the mages that watched him until his large orbs settled on a young individual that stood leaning on the front of the table, shockingly bright green eyes boring into Vanus's. He looked to be only a few years his senior, attractively sharp features framed by pale blonde hair that hung to his rib cage. His gaze was piercing, and Vanus felt his stomach twitch under it. He couldn't look away from him, even as Iachesis stopped walking forward and began speaking.

"Thank you for coming," the aging teacher said loudly, addressing the whole room, "As is tradition, I would like to give you the opportunity to welcome our newest apprentice, Vanus Galerion!"

All the observers clapped, including the green-eyed teenager who still held his gaze. Vanus broke it momentarily to smile awkwardly at everyone, unsure of what to say. Iachesis nudged him politely, urging him to speak.

"Umm," he began, choking on his words, "Thank you for accepting me. I'm looking forward to learning all I can from you all. I appreciate the opportunity."

Happy that he had managed to cough something out, Vanus bowed. The mages clapped again as he returned to full height. Iachesis patted him on the back and led him forward, the rest of the room standing and migrating over to them.

"Ah, time to meet everyone. Good job, Vanus. You'll make a fine student."

Iachesis introduced him to the rest of the Psijics, telling him their names. Vanus didn't really pay attention until they were approached by a thin figure wearing the same robes as he.

"Well, he must be smart. If he wasn't, I'm sure you'd have left him in whatever ditch you found him in."

Iachesis and Vanus turned to face the voice.

"Hush," Iachesis said, chiding the pale-blonde mer, "Vanus, this is Mannimarco, our top student."

Vanus froze as his eyes once again met Mannimarco's. He was smirking lightly, appraising the younger apprentice.

"Pleasure," he noted coolly, taking Vanus's hand in his own. Iachesis sensed something between them, but didn't remark on it.

"Mannimarco arrived here about five years ago, when he was a year younger than you. You'll be training together from now on."

Mannimarco's smirk turned sour as he shot Iachesis a filthy glare. Iachesis returned it, eventually squashing his other student's attempt at objection.

"Well, we shall see how well this works, shan't we?" With that, the older boy turned on his heel and sauntered out of the room, long hair swishing as he walked. Vanus stared after him, filled with a strange sense of foreboding and fascination.

"Don't mind him, Vanus," Iachesis reassured him, shaking his head, "He can be moody on the best of days. He's brilliant, but his attitude gets him in trouble more often than not."

Vanus only nodded in acknowledgement.

'_Mannimarco', _he thought, watching the teenager's retreating back, '_You're different. More than anyone here can tell…'_

**A/N: By the Eight and One, there were so many formatting errors...no wonder people were confused. AGH. Review if you care to. **


	2. Moments and Mistakes

**A/N: I have dedication to this fic. By the Nine. **

* * *

Many long years had passed since Trechtus, the forsaken serf's son had become Vanus Galerion, talented student of the Psijic order. He had been eleven then, and he could barely see that young, fresh-faced child in the mirror anymore. It had been nine years, nine years of changing and evolving into what he was now. He had come into his own, features no longer boyish but carelessly attractive, golden-skinned face framed by rich brown hair that always seemed to escape its binds. His blue-green eyes were still wide and bright, but they held an air of understanding and knowledge that he was sure didn't exist when he came to Artaeum for the first time. It was early on a breezy summer morning, and he had been struck by the changes as he passed by the looking glass in his typical rush to get ready. He was so engrossed in his inspection that he didn't notice when a figure came to stand in his doorway, leaning on the frame.

"Feeling a bit narcissistic this morning, Vanus?"

Vanus turned around, brilliant red flush coating his refined cheeks.

"No, of course not! I just happened to notice how old I look, that's all."

Mannimarco raised a neatly-groomed eyebrow, walking into the room. He sat down on Vanus's bed, pushing off a random pile of papers to make room.

"You're a strange one, Vanus. Twenty years is far from being old, especially by our standards."

Vanus hurried about his room, throwing on a pair of well-worn apprentice robes and running a brush through his unruly locks.

"That's not what I meant. I meant that—ow! Sorry, caught a snarl. I meant that I can't even see the desperate child that came here nine years ago. I think he may've died."

Mannimarco laughed heartily, flopping back on the bed. He kicked more papers onto the floor with a flourish, sitting up on his elbow. His peridot eyes looked at Vanus curiously.

"I think he may have, too. After all, that little boy used to glare at me like I was the spawn of Mehrunes Dagon himself!"

Vanus stopped his rushed routine to peg a journal at his friend, hitting him in the chest with a thud.

"I still think you're the spawn of Dagon. I just know how to handle your mischief now!"

Mannimarco sat back up, lifting the innocent-book-turned-projectile off of him. Noticing that Vanus had dressed in the white, worn-to-Oblivion robes he wore to classes, he started chuckling.

"Today is _Loredas_, Vanus Galerion. We don't participate in any form of structured learning today."

Vanus, who had a stale biscuit he unearthed under the mess on his desktop stuffed into his mouth, halted.

"Ish it?!" he asked, trying to speak around the food.

"Yes," Mannimarco huffed out, still laughing, "You don't have to wear those. As a matter of fact, you _shouldn't._ They're just going to get dirtier if you do."

"Damph it!" the younger mer exclaimed, quickly undoing the robes. He scrounged around his room for a few minutes searching for his weekend clothes beneath the piles of papers. He finally found them underneath a large wad of alchemy notes and threw them on, simple brown cloth pants and a sky-blue shirt that he was told brought out his eyes. At least they were moderately clean by comparison.

"I swear, Vanus, I don't know how you live in this mess. I'd die, smothered in the night by a massive, miraculously sentient stack of paper."

Vanus chucked another book at Mannimarco, who was able to dodge.

"That's enough from you! I'm ready, now. Can we go, or are you just going to sit there and whine at me all day?"

Mannimarco stood, gesturing to the door.

"Let's go, then."

Vanus smiled widely at him, heart fluttering pleasantly as he took in the amused expression on his companion's face.

Their initial plan for the day was to practice Destruction spells in the large training cellar and then make their own lunch, but plans were changed when Mannimarco strongly suggested they make a run for alchemical supplies in the tropical woods that surrounded the palace. He had said that they were running low on a few things, but the darker haired mer knew that their stores had been restocked two nights ago. Vanus was skeptical about the sudden shift in their set schedule, but was too curious to insist they follow their first idea. Mannimarco seemed excited, and he wasn't about to ruin his friend's typically fragile good mood.

When they neared the border of the forest, Vanus stopped.

"What're we really doing out here, Mannimarco?" he said crossly, hands on his hips, "We have plenty of supplies back in the storeroom. I know you've got something else on your devious mind. What is it?"

The smile on Mannimarco's striking features grew wider. He walked back to Vanus, laying hands on the younger student's shoulders.

"Well," he said, doing his best to appear charming, "I thought we might test what we've learned in the field. After all, a practice dummy cannot attack us, can it? We've done nothing but study lately. I'd like to put my knowledge to the test. Wouldn't you?"

Vanus's stomach knotted, the feeling of imminent peril filling his senses.

"If you're talking about going into the caverns, then the answer is no. I'm not going to let you drag us both into danger."

Mannimarco's face fell a little. He rubbed Vanus's shoulders reassuringly, trying to project his reasoning into his reluctant companion.

"Listen, Vanus. I know you think it is best that we train in a 'safe' environment, but a real battle will _not_ be safe and controlled. Our attackers won't be stationary and will most definitely return fire. How can we expect to survive if the only enemies we've fought are practice dummies?"

Vanus looked everywhere but Mannimarco's face as he considered the logic presented to him. He couldn't deny that he'd longed to test what he'd learned in a real battle, but he felt that the older mer was going about it all wrong. _As usual…_

"Vanus," Mannimarco said, leaning down to rest his forehead lightly on the brunette's, "I'm not going to let either of us get killed. We can both hold our own, can we not?"

Vanus brought his gaze up to Mannimarco's, shivering involuntarily when his eyes met the bright green of his fellow student. He didn't say anything for a few moments, then bowed his head in resignation.

"Fine, but if Iachesis slaughters us for this, it was entirely your fault!" he answered, punctuating his point with a prod to the taller man's sternum. Mannimarco grinned in obvious triumph, giving Vanus's shoulders a light squeeze before turning around and heading into the forest. Vanus followed behind cautiously, watching every shadow of every tree and plant warily.

"Mannimarco?"

"Yes?"

"I really hope you know what you're doing…"

* * *

"For a place that's supposed to be brimming with certain death, it's rather beautiful," Vanus remarked as they neared the entrance to the largest cave in the chain of limestone caverns that dotted the forests of Artaeum. A waterfall spilled over the top of the cave's mouth into a crystal clear pool at its base. Vibrant green grass and a smattering of blue flowers surrounded the edge of the pool, light filtering down onto it from between the canopy of leaves above them. His sensitive ears picked up on the light-hearted singing of birds in the distance, soothing him even as wind from the depths curled around his feet. He waited for Mannimarco to comment as well, but received no reply. The platinum blonde's eyes were narrowed, his expression stony.

"Mannimarco," Vanus said, pulling on his friend's dark sleeve to get his attention, "Mannimarco, are you listening to me?"

The older mer appeared to snap out of his reverie, shaking his head quickly as if to clear his thoughts.

"Sorry, Vanus. We should get going."

With that, he set off into the cave's opening. Vanus felt an overwhelming urge to leave flood his entire body, setting off warning bells in his head. He just _knew_ something bad was going to happen down there, in the dark. He knew it, but his feet propelled him on. He wasn't going to leave Mannimarco to face whatever that something was alone. _Damned if you do, Vanus, damned if you don't…_

Water dripped incessantly around them, echoing loudly off the hole-filled limestone walls of the cave. Mannimarco had summoned a magelight, its blue glow illuminating enough of the area for them to walk. His face looked ghostly in the light, the serious expression having since returned. Vanus's skin was crawling from unspoken nervousness. He didn't like the situation they'd placed themselves in. _'We should leave,_' he thought, _'We should leave. Right now…'_

Mannimarco, however, seemed undeterred. He traipsed on with a sharp focus, as if on a mission.

"I don't like this place, Mannimarco. Something is off…"

Mannimarco didn't respond.

"I swear, you never listen to me! If you had just—" Vanus was cut off as Mannimarco threw his hand against his companion's chest, halting him. He held a finger to his lips, telling Vanus to be quiet. At first the younger mer felt slighted, but hushed as he saw that Mannimarco's other hand was alight with flame.

A low, gurgling moan sounded from the pitch dark in the back of the cave. Vanus felt his blood go cold as many horrific cries bubbled up, ringing in his ears like a death knell. Mannimarco's stoic expression warped into an animalistic snarl, his lips curled back. With a yell, he launched a fireball into the darkness. It lit up the entire cave in orange light, highlighting at least a dozen rotting faces. The fireball had managed to slam into the nearest zombie, killing it instantly. The others, now sensing their prey clearly, rushed the Altmeri pair with frenzied screeches. Vanus had no time to think, only react. He threw ice shards at every enemy he could find, landing near-perfect shots on more than half of them. The now-permanently dead fell to the ground with a sick thud, decaying flesh hitting wet stone. He knew he was succeeding and felt proud of how quickly he'd responded to the threat, but his heart stopped when he saw a purple-blue light surround one of the less marred creatures. It stood slowly, then sank the remainder of its teeth into the nearest of its kind.

Vanus looked to Mannimarco, hoping he was as surprised as he had been. What he saw made him nauseous: that same indigo light was stretching out from the pale mer's fingers, connecting him to the undead. He wore a twisted smile, one of pure thrill. He wasn't shocked at the rising of the dead. He was _causing _it…

Vanus had little time to consider this new development as he was attacked by two more zombies, both stumbling towards him in a blind rage. He dispatched them quickly with spears of energy, watching with horror as Mannimarco's new pet slaughtered the remaining three creatures. _Which one's more terrifying? The undead or the living controlling them?_

When every last zombie lay permanently dead and Mannimarco's slave had fizzled into a pile of glowing ash, Vanus summoned another magelight. Mannimarco was looking at him with a smile on his face.

"Haha, we did it, Vanus!" he said, emphasizing his enthusiasm with a clap to the younger Altmer's stiff shoulder, "I told you we wouldn't get eviscerated. These monsters barely put up a fight!" Still laughing amusedly, he gave a zombie a swift kick. It took him a few moments to realize that Vanus didn't share his happiness at their victory. When he looked at his companion's face, he drew back, smile fading. _Is that anger? _

"What _was_ that?" Vanus asked heatedly, eyes blazing furiously in the sparse light. Mannimarco only looked at him quizzically, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"What was what?" he returned, honestly curious as to what Vanus was so upset about.

"_That!_" Vanus replied venomously, pointing at the mystically steaming ash-pile, "What you did to that creature! You…" he stumbled over his words, struggling to find the reality in what he was about to say, "You resurrected it. It was already gone and you brought it back…I know for a fact that you didn't learn that from any of our teachers."

"Oh, that?" Mannimarco said with a slightly cheerful inflection, "It's a technique that I read about in some ancient Dunmeri texts. Apparently, they do this sort of thing in their religious ceremonies. I thought I'd try it out. It's nothing, really…"

"_It's nothing? _Do you even know what you did? Calling the spirit back after it's passed on is a blatant _sin_, Mannimarco. What makes you think that it's permissible to do something like that? If the Psijics find out-"

Feeling as if he was being attacked, the pale-haired mer grew frustrated and cut off his friend.

"It wasn't as if I had killed a person in the streets and then resurrected them with the whole damn island watching, Vanus! These mistakes of nature were already undead. I was just making short work of them. Besides, you're over-reacting! The Psijics would have no way of finding out about it unless one of us mentions it to them, which we won't."

He waited eagerly for Vanus's affirmative reply, but got only silence.

"Won't we, Vanus?" he repeated with conviction, looking his younger companion straight in the eye. Vanus sighed heavily and lowered his head, shaking it in resignation.

"You tell me it was nothing, but you refuse to tell anyone about it," he paused, returning his gaze to Mannimarco's, "I won't tell them, Mannimarco, but it can't happen again. If it does…Well, I don't even want to think of what it would mean. Just promise me you won't do it anymore. It was a one-time moment of academic curiosity and now that you've been satisfied, you'll never have to use the spell again…"

He was ready to plead his point to the older male when Mannimarco's defensive posture sagged and he released a sigh of submission.

"Fine," he said, "Let's get out of here, then."

The blonde mer headed towards the exit of the cave, a wary Vanus in tow. As they made their way back to the palace, Vanus replayed the entire skirmish in his head, recalling the sick smile on his companion's face as he resurrected the zombie and the happiness he'd heard in his voice when he explained his accomplishment. It twisted his stomach into knots, making him cringe. If he was honest with himself, Mannimarco had scared him. Had _terrified_ him. There was something lurking beneath the intelligent, refined exterior that had just shown its ugly face to Vanus. For the first time since the day they met, Vanus felt a shiver of foreboding in the back of his mind. He knew it wouldn't be the last he'd see of it.

The rest of the journey back was spent in silence. When they reached the palace, Mannimarco had bid him a clipped goodbye and stalked off to his room without another word. Vanus thought about following him, but held back when he observed the stiffness in the older mer's posture as he walked away. _Let him be, Vanus,_ he thought to himself, _it's best if you let him be._

* * *

Mannimarco sat in his room, seething. He had nearly thrown his fist into the stone wall as soon as he closed the door, but settled for taking out his anger on the nearest thing he could grab: a large journal of notes from his latest class. He whipped the hefty tome across the otherwise-orderly room with a snarl, relishing the tell-tale thud of it hitting the wall with gusto. Shockingly enough, the random act of violence had calmed his temper enough for him to think.

He sat on the edge of his darkly-covered bed, head in his hands. He had been stupid for thinking that Vanus wouldn't react to his spell. By Oblivion, he had been stupid to even _try_ it in his presence. The blonde mer chastised himself for his lack of consideration. _You should've known better…_

He had assured Vanus that he was never going to try it again.

He had _promised _that he was never going to resurrect what was already dead.

He had looked the younger mer in his great, mint-coloured eyes and promised him that he was done with it.

Mannimarco smiled to himself, thinking back on the situation he'd placed himself in. He loved Vanus dearly, but he was in too deep to be drawn out by a promise he'd made to satisfy him.

Essentially, he had assured Vanus Galerion that he would never practice the art of necromancy.

He had lied.


	3. Dreams and Destinies

**A/N: I promised I wouldn't do this. I'm a bad person and I should feel bad. **

**I'm also not overly fond of this chapter, but I'm gonna leave it here anyhow. The next one will make up for it, I think.**

**I don't own anything except that which I do.**

* * *

Vanus couldn't sleep. His restless mind wouldn't let him. It kept replaying the images of the incident from that morning: vivid pictures of rotting faces, the insane grin of a mad mage, the indigo light of the morbid spell. It was all there, _and it wouldn't go away._

It wasn't the first night he'd spent wakeful since his arrival on Artaeum. With as frequently as they occurred, Vanus fancied himself an expert on thwarting insomnia. He'd learned how to deal with it in several ways, most of which involved drinking warm tea and reading the most boring of novels until his eyelids grew heavy. Some nights, however, called for more drastic measures. Some nights, he would crawl out of bed and walk the moonlit palace and its grounds, darting his eyes every so often to the star-speckled sky in appreciation. The soft, silver rays soothed him. The melodic chirping of cicadas cleared his mind. Some nights, he needed to just lose himself in the serenity. Tonight was one of those nights.

He didn't even bother to change out of his gauzy, cream-coloured sleepclothes as he got up and left his room. His collarbone-length dark hair curled rebelliously, sticking up in every direction, indicative of his restless tossing and turning. If someone found him wandering the ancient halls so late at night and in such a state of disarray, he'd be chastised 'til he couldn't think anymore. Some of the Psijics were fussier over their students than mother hens over their chicks. Though, as he padded bare-foot down the dimly lit hallways, he couldn't bring himself to care what anyone thought of him, much less some old coot badgering him about his haggard appearance.

The young mer wandered aimlessly for a long while, traversing hallway after hallway, courtyard after courtyard. At long last, he was beginning to feel sleep creep up on him. He shambled his way back towards the wing he lived in, eyelids beginning to droop. He was almost to the edge of the staircase leading to his floor when a shadow in his periphery drew his gaze, eyes snapping open. It was gone as quickly as it had come. _Much like my sleepiness,_ he thought with frustration. He shook his head and began ascending the twisted staircase, footfalls heavy. As he neared the last step, another flurry of movement in the dark caught his eye. He turned around quick enough to snag a better glimpse of the phantasm, catching it as it walked silently across the foyer below him. It was a definitely a person, taller than he by a few inches at least. It was dressed in dark clothing, a travelling cloak billowing out behind its form gracefully with every stride. Through the near-pitch darkness, Vanus could make out a long swathe of pale hair down the individual's back. Recognition seeped into the young mage's mind as the figure left through the exit to the gardens.

_My, my, _Vanus Galerion thought with some irritation, _Guilty conscience keeping you awake?_ Disregarding his plan to try to find sleep, he bolted down the stairs and chased after Mannimarco, insatiably curious. _You can't hide anything from me…Not this time._

* * *

Mannimarco had heard Vanus running up behind him and stopped in the middle of the elegant wooden bridge that ran over the small stream in the palace garden. Much as he wished he could have, he knew avoiding his younger companion wasn't an option. Vanus halted at the edge of the bridge, breathing heavily from his run. He didn't speak, but just looked at the blonde mer quizzically, as if expecting some sort of explanation.

"It seems we're both wakeful, Vanus," he said coolly, eyes on the moving water below him.

"I suppose so," he replied, walking up onto the bridge to stand next to his companion, "Though I never thought you for the strolling type."

Mannimarco chuckled at that.

"I'm not, not usually. I was restless. I guess I couldn't put the images of this morning out of my mind."

Vanus froze, labored breathing slowing to a crawl. He stared at the older male's moonlit profile, unable to speak. Mannimarco must've sensed his sudden hesitation and turned to him, laughing darkly.

"I believe you had the same dilemma, then. You don't freeze up unless I mention something that disturbs you. You never were very good at hiding your emotions, my dear."

Vanus exhaled, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders.

"And you were never very good at _controlling_ yours," he replied with thinly-veiled indignation, going to stand closer to the other mer, "but yes. I couldn't stop thinking about it, either…"

Mannimarco smiled somberly, eyes on Vanus. He sighed lightly, leaning on one arm on the bridge's railing. The younger assumed he was thinking deeply about something and was surprised when a long-fingered hand came up and brushed a stray curl behind his pointed ear. He flinched, but did not move away. Mannimarco's hand stayed where it was, digits weaving gently through knotted strands.

"I'm sorry, Vanus," he said, emerald irises nearly glowing in the night, "What I did bothered you more than you'd ever tell me…"

The silence between them was as heavy as the humid summer air. Vanus heard the sincerity in his tone and allowed himself to melt into it, readily accepting the apology Mannimarco was offering him. He had spent the entire night thinking the absolute worst, and his mind longed for absolution. It was relieving to have those fears assuaged, the images of rising dead and sick smiles banished to the corners of his mind. He brought his gaze to his companion's, heart pounding in his ears.

"I won't lie to you," he began, fingering the hem of his shirt, "You terrified me. Performing that spell brought out a side to you that I never wanted to see and hope never to see again…"

Vanus trailed off, diverting his eyes from the intense stare of the older mage. He could hear his heart racing even faster as the hand that was tangled in his thick hair trailed down his jaw to cup his chin, softly turning his head to face his companion once more. Mannimarco's expression was unreadable in the moonlight, but Vanus was certain it had changed from one of expectant scrutiny to something else entirely._ Can you hear my heart? How can you not?_

"Vanus," he said, voice barely a breath. Vanus closed his eyes, slipping easily into the feeling that was enveloping him as he sensed his fellow student move closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He inhaled sharply as he felt another pair of lips on his own, not daring to move. There was nothing demanding in the kiss, and Vanus allowed himself to reciprocate, arms finding their way around Mannimarco's shoulders. He wasn't sure why he felt so alright with this, why he permitted and even _encouraged_ the older mer to continue, velvet tongue sliding into his mouth and dancing with his own. He pressed closer, seeking contact and relishing in the warmth it brought him when he felt the blonde mer's body flush against his. What happened in the caverns didn't matter. The crazed smile on Mannimarco's face as he resurrected the dead didn't matter. Nothing mattered, save for them, save for the sensation of intimacy they shared. It was all he had...

* * *

Vanus awoke with a start, sweat on his brow. His sheets were in a tangled mess around his too-warm body, sleepclothes sticking uncomfortably to his soaked skin. He sat up, raking a trembling hand through his now hopelessly knotted hair. Images of the dream came flooding back quickly, sending unwelcome shivers down his spine as he thought of Mannimarco's kiss. The young mage breathed deeply, trying to calm his horribly sensitive body. His skin still felt as if it were on fire. He looked quickly around his paper-blanketed room, unsure of exactly when he'd fallen asleep. Realizing that he probably wouldn't be able to return to dreamland, he untangled himself from his sheets and walked out of his room, fanning himself. He intended to go for a walk to clear his mind, praying that he would be able to stop replaying the dream. It made him uncomfortable to say the least, and he wasn't about to admit how it truly made him feel. He made it to the top of the staircase before movement caught his eye.

_By the Nine,_ he thought as his stomach flipped nervously,_ you must be kidding me._

As in the dream, Mannimarco stalked about the foyer in a black travelling cloak. Though, to Vanus's shock and hopeless relief, he walked in the direction of the library. More cautious than his dream-self had been, Vanus snuck down the stairs, taking care to be as quiet as possible. He wasn't going to let himself get caught.

The younger mer managed to follow his older friend at a distance for a while, staying far enough behind so as to avoid alerting Mannimarco of his presence. Once they arrived at the massive library, however, the blonde mer vanished among the ceiling-high shelves of countless books, leaving Vanus more than a slight bit confused. He quietly searched every aisle, spying for his companion in the meager light that filtered into the gargantuan room from the high windows on either wall. He was growing steadily more and more frustrated as his search proved fruitless, until a bizarrely placed book in the case on the back wall caught his eye. It was a small tome on the fourth shelf up, lying awkwardly on its well-worn spine. Vanus examined it curiously, eventually tipping it right-side up in a gesture of propriety and ingrained respect. As the book slid into place, the dark-haired mer's sensitive ears heard a click. A door opened up from the bookshelf that revealed a slim, stone staircase descending below the palace. Immediately, his curiosity turned to suspicion. He knew without a doubt that Mannimarco had gone down there. His stomach twitched again, the now-familiar sensation of foreboding slipping back into his keen senses. Steeling himself for whatever he might find, Vanus swallowed thickly, taking his first steps down the stairs. He summoned a magelight, placing his hands over it to limit its light, leaving just enough for him to see. The passage itself was innocuous enough, just roughly-hewn rock and cold, stone stairs. The journey down was uneventful until he tripped on the jagged edge of a step, bludgeoning his exposed toes and letting out a loud curse. He winced, hearing the echo bounce off the stone walls. _Divine Auri-el, protect me…_

* * *

Mannimarco frowned in disappointment as he violently ripped the necklace off the corpse. He threw it across the large, candle-lit room, huffing in anger. This was the _fifth time_ he'd tried to bind the residual soul of the dead to an object, and it was the fifth time he'd _failed._ The corpse in question would rise for a few moments, sentient enough to speak simple words, then would fall back to the stone floor, dead as a doornail. The necromancer wanted to tear his hair out in frustration. He had big plans, very big plans, but he couldn't accomplish _any _of them if the subjects he tested his theories on didn't want to work with him. It wasn't so much to ask, was it? A little cooperation from the dead would've been most welcome. Sighing dramatically, he stood, walking over to his desk and selecting another necklace to enchant. _Well, _he thought, fastening the bauble around the neck of a dead Imperial watchman from the most recent visiting party, _I suppose that the sixth time's the charm._

Indigo tendrils of magic were taking shape at his fingertips when he heard the yell. It had come from the staircase that lead into the room, and by the sound of it, the owner of the voice was too close for comfort. Heart fluttering in fright, Mannimarco immediately disarmed his spell and ran over to the candle, dousing it. He bolted to the door, going through it and locking it in record time. He halted at the base of the stairs, taking a moment to collect himself before beginning his ascent. He was gaining too much ground to be discovered now! He'd be damned if he let all of his work go to waste. A pale blue light illuminated the stairs as he neared the source of the voice. What he discovered was a magelight hovering above the sitting form of a mer. The intruder sat on a single step, examining a lightly bleeding bare foot with messy locks of brown hair hanging in his face.

"Vanus?" Mannimarco asked, standing over his friend. Vanus's eyes snapped up quickly, guilty expression on his features as if he were a child caught stealing a sweetroll. The younger mer stood, wavering a little as he placed his damaged foot on the ground.

"I tripped…" was the only thing the shorter mage said, wincing in pain as he put weight on his injury. Mannimarco raised an eyebrow, secretly relieved that Vanus had only made it as far as the curve in the stairwell that marked the half-way point.

"What were you doing down here in the first place? You aren't even wearing shoes!"

"Well, I couldn't sleep, so I was wandering the halls…"

Vanus's sheepish expression turned sour as he stared at his companion, suddenly remembering his suspicions.

"Wait, what are _you_ doing down here?" he demanded, placing his hands on his hips, "I saw you come in here when I was walking about the castle. It's a bit strange for there to be a mysterious hole in the wall, even stranger for me to find you in it."

Mannimarco was nervous, but restrained himself from revealing so. He pushed past Vanus, gripping the younger mer's thin wrist then proceeding to drag him up the steps.

"I thought it was strange, too," he lied quickly, developing a decent cover story in his clever mind, "When I'm wakeful, I come in the Archives to read. Not all of us keep a personal library, you know."

When Vanus didn't respond beyond a quick snort of indignation at the subtle insult, he took it as a good sign and kept elaborating.

"Perhaps you saw the book that was out of place as I did when I came in. I couldn't help my curiosity, Vanus; you know how I can get when I discover something unusual. I opened the door, same as you must've and followed the stairs. I made it all the way down to the last step before I realized it was a dead end. The only thing at the end of this path is a small, empty room. Maybe the Psijics hid in here during sieges. Who knows?"

"Maybe so," Vanus said, still apprehensive. The logic Mannimarco shoved at him was sound, but he couldn't escape the niggling feeling that the tall mer was lying through his near-perfect teeth.

"So, you had no idea that this place existed? None at all?"

Mannimarco scoffed, nearly throwing Vanus out of the staircase when they reached the top. He closed the door softly and looked at Vanus with anger, doing his best to feign offence.

"Of course not, Vanus," he spat, as if in disbelief that the curious Altmer would even suggest such a thing, "I'd have told you about it if I had known it existed before tonight, wouldn't I? Do you really have that little faith in me?"

Vanus diverted his eyes to the pale hand still on his wrist, considering the imploring tone in his friend's voice and trying not to tremble from the touch.

"I have faith in you, Mannimarco. I guess…" Vanus hesitated, worrying at his lower lip, "I guess I spent too much time thinking about what happened this morning before I went to bed. I've been more than a slight bit jumpy all night. The dreams I had certainly didn't help…"

Mannimarco smiled widely, releasing his grip on the shorter mer's wrist.

"It's alright," he said, exhaling in quiet relief, "I have been, too."

For a reason unbeknownst to him, Vanus looked up at him expectantly. The illumination of the magelight faded to nothing, leaving them bathed in only the sparse moonlight filtering down from one of the windows onto their aisle. _He's staring at you, Mannimarco. Make him believe you, _really _believe you. Apologize to him! Apologize!_

"I'm sorry, Vanus," he said softly, "What I did bothered you more than you'd ever tell me…"

Even in the weak light, Mannimarco saw his companion's eyes widen and heard his breathing hitch in his chest. He didn't understand the reaction, but shrugged it off as shock that he was actually lowering himself to apologize. He gave a half-hearted laugh and moved closer to Vanus, removing a dark curl from Vanus's face, placing it behind his ear with a brush of his hand. He let his hand linger, entwining his fingers in the mussed locks. Much to his surprise, Vanus's eyes widened even more.

"I-I won't l-lie to you," the young mage stuttered, words sounding curiously rehearsed to Mannimarco, "You t-terrified me. Performing that spell brought out a side to you that I never wanted to see and hope never to see again…"

Vanus Galerion was shaking. Not just trembling, as if from a chill, he was _shaking. _ Mannimarco moved even closer, looking at Vanus in the most comforting manner he could manage while telling bold-faced lies. He felt a twinge of regret as he stared into his eyes, feelings even more unwelcome than said regret seeping up into his gut the longer he stared. Vanus was looking at him as if he were waiting for something.

Vanus's hand was on his arm, lightly squeezing. All he could think about was the dream. _By the Nine, it's real. It's real and he's here and he's looking at me and I can't breathe and Oblivion, why doesn't he just do it already?!_

Mannimarco leaned forward, stroking Vanus's cheek as he removed his hand from the twisted bird's nest of hair. His hand was outstretched and his lips were parted, as if he were about to speak.

"Vanus," he said. He stared for a few seconds longer, nearly losing himself in his companion's unyielding gaze. When he realized their proximity, he shook his head and drew back, hand coming to rest at his side.

He cleared his throat and nodded, taking a step away. He was beginning to feel a little sick to his stomach. Damn nerves.

"We, uh…We should go back to sleep. This place makes me a little nervous in the dark."

Vanus did his best not to look crestfallen and blinked a few times, trying come to terms with what just happened.

"Ahem. Right, of course," he answered, coughing once, "Me, too. Uh, I mean, I get nervous, too."

Mannimarco bid him a clipped goodnight and hurried out of the library, appearing to Vanus as conflicted as he was. After he'd had time to calm his thumping heart and settle his rapid breathing, the younger mer shuffled back to his room. He collapsed on his bed as soon as he entered the messy abode, excruciatingly worn out. He managed to replay the entire night once before sleep claimed him, deep and dreamless.

* * *

Mannimarco practically threw his door shut as he rushed into his room. The nausea had grown stronger since he left Vanus, and he felt his stomach churning. He managed to seek out the clay urn he used for discarded notes in time, emptying the contents of his stomach into it with painful lurch. He retched a few more times, sweat beading on his forehead. When his body deemed that he was done being violently ill, he leaned back against the end of his bed, exhaling an unsteady breath.

Vanus had almost found out.

He had almost lost everything.

_He had almost lost everything…_

The thought made his burning stomach flinch again. He couldn't recall a time he had ever felt this horrified. If Vanus had found his experiments, if he was to discover…No. No, he couldn't afford to think about what would happen. It wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't let it. As long as he was alive to stop him—

Alive.

Mannimarco smiled to himself, realizing with sudden clarity that he had just inadvertently solved his most vexing problem. Perhaps the soul-binding required a _live_ subject in order to succeed. If he was right (and more serious thought on the matter made him almost positive he was,) then he had discovered the path to his greatest ambition. It would need testing, of course, a great deal of testing, but once he found the perfect ritual, he would have everything he dreamed of.

He let his head fall back against the bed, snickering lightly to himself.

This was real. He had done it, and he'd be damned to Oblivion if he didn't find a way to make it a reality. The Psijic order didn't matter. The pathetic classes and watered-down spells they force-fed him didn't matter. Even Vanus (_You're lying to yourself, Mannimarco, you almost gave in tonight,)_ didn't matter in comparison. Nothing mattered. He would become immortal. No one was going to stop him.


	4. Serenity and Suspicions

**A/n: Oh my goodness, I feel horrible for submitting this so late. Military life keeps me extremely busy, especially during the week. In addition, I struggled endlessly deciding how I wanted this chapter to go. I feel kind of bad for adding in the slash, but it'll make it even more interesting when the feces hit the proverbial fan, in oh, say...a chapter or so. Also, I wanted to thank Blade Agent 99 for all the reviews. I'm sorry this one came so late! I appreciate the kick in the butt. My only wish is that you were a registered user so I could reply to all of them. :) Well, enjoy. **

**I don't own anything save for what I actually do. The rest belongs to Bethesda...**

* * *

It was mid-afternoon at the beginning of fall on the island of Artaeum. Psijic Master Iachesis sat on his balcony at an intricately carved wooden table, overlooking the flame-coloured foliage of the palace gardens. He inhaled deeply, sipping warm tea imported from Cyrodiil. He was expecting someone, and knew it would be only a matter of time before his guest arrived. Sure enough, he heard the sound of footsteps on the tile floor behind him, announcing the presence of another.

"You wished to see me, Master?" Vanus Galerion said, standing at the entrance to the balcony with his long-fingered hands clasped before him. He looked remarkably clean, Iachesis noted with some pleasure, the white of Vanus's student robes brilliant in the light.

"Ah, Vanus! Indeed I did. Please, sit." With a smile, Iachesis gestured to the seat opposite him. Vanus obliged obediently and joined him at the table, looking at his Master with an expression of curiosity. Iachesis regarded him for a moment, gently setting his teacup back on the smooth, wooden surface.

"Tomorrow will be a momentous day for you, will it not?" he asked, folding his arms neatly in his lap, "You finally shed the title of student and become what you've aspired to be for a decade: a full-fledged member of the Psijic Order."

Vanus grinned sheepishly, plucking absentmindedly at his robes. Though he seemed timidly excited about his graduation, Iachesis detected that his talented mind was elsewhere. The dark-haired mer fidgeted under his questioning gaze, looking everywhere but into his aging Master's eyes.

"Are you nervous, my child?" the Psijic asked, deciding to call attention to Vanus's hesitation and unnatural behavior.

"No," he answered honestly, "No, I'm not nervous about becoming a member of the Order."

Iachesis nodded, but still watched suspiciously as his student tapped his fingers on the table, eyes restlessly diverting to everything but him.

"Then what's troubling you if not the ceremony?"

Vanus finally stopped searching his surroundings for nothing and looked at Iachesis, seafoam eyes devoid of all emotion. He sighed heavily and shook his head as if defeated.

"I'm worried, Master."

"Worried?" Iachesis asked, leaning back into his chair, "About what?"

The young mage bit his lip, obviously unsure of how to address the problem that was eating away at him. Iachesis could tell that whatever was gave Vanus great pain to talk about. The usual carefree nature he'd come to expect from nearly every encounter he'd had with Vanus was gone, replaced by a spitting image of the wary child who had arrived ten years prior.

"Speak, Vanus," he said strongly, causing the other male to flinch in embarrassment.

"Mannimarco."

"What?" Iachesis returned, confused.

"I'm worried about Mannimarco."

"Whatever for?" the Psijic Master demanded, prying at the young mage. Though he still appeared uncomfortable, Vanus glared at him steadily for the first time since they began conversing.

"He's…changing. Every day, I see it. Every day, I sense more and more of him slipping away from us. There's something wrong with him, Master. I can tell…"

Iachesis regarded him, eyebrows raised in doubt. Vanus paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, but continued speaking.

"Master Iachesis, I fear…I fear he may be practicing dark magic."

Iachesis felt a little horrible for his actions, but he couldn't help laughing lightly at Vanus's claim. The thought of his best and brightest becoming a dark mage was absurd. Mannimarco was a mercurial creature, but not one to turn to questionable magics. Vanus regarded him with a look of offended anger, nails digging into the tabletop.

"Vanus, that's nonsense. What kind of proof do you have to support this…this _theory_ of yours?"

"Have you seen him lately?" Vanus asked, staring hard at his Master, "He looks like death. His skin is as pale as bone and he appears not to have slept for weeks. As a matter of fact, he probably hasn't. I've caught him countless times staying up into the wee hours of the night, building a staff in the Armoury. He refuses to tell me what it's for, and every time I inquire about his sleeping habits he brushes off my concern, saying it's 'needless.' He's up to something, Master. Observe him for a little while and I _guarantee_ I won't be proven wrong."

The young mer hoped his Master would see solid reason behind his words, but Iachesis only waved his hand in dismissal.

"You are overreacting, my child. You know as well as I do that, once Mannimarco sets his mind to something, not even the opened doors of Oblivion would stop him. You're assuming his dedication has some sinister ulterior motive when it is nothing more than obsessive creation. The building of a staff is no cause to be alarmed."

Vanus opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly, looking away from the white-haired Master. When his gaze returned, his eyes were blazing with an anger that shocked Iachesis.

"You're blind," he said through gritted teeth, standing up from the table, "You're blind, and by the time you open your eyes, it will be too late! He won't hide himself forever, Master, and when he finally shows his true colours, it will be the death of us all!"

"That's enough, Vanus Galerion," Iachesis commanded sternly, shooting his student a sharp glare, "I will hear no more of this. Sit down."

Vanus stared at him for a few moments more, fuming. He did not sit, but turned to walk away from his Master. When he reached the doorway, he looked back, expression unreadable.

"You will see," he said darkly, "You will see, but it will be too late to do anything about it. I'll see you at the ceremony."

The angry student left, leaving a stunned Iachesis watching after him. He released a heavy sigh, massaging his temples. A heavy gust of chilly wind dragged dying leaves from the trees, depositing them on the balcony. Thoughtfully, the Master plucked one off the tiles and held it between his thumb and forefinger, examining the splotches of yellow and red across it. Indeed, the autumn of his life was beginning as well. He had little time to deal with rebellious students and misunderstood threats.

_I'm getting too old for this…_

* * *

Uncomfortable was the only word that could accurately describe Vanus as he stood before the tall, ornate mirror. His unruly hair had been forcibly yanked back into a ponytail that sat high on his head, tight enough to give him a horrendous headache. Every time he tried to move, he was prodded by several pins that the tailor was using to fit his new, delicately-embroidered slate grey robes. He wanted to scream, to tear himself out of the constrictive clothing, to free his hair from its binds. He hated the pomp and circumstance of the ceremonies that the Psijics insisted on subjecting him to. Though, as he looked at his reflection, he couldn't help but feel a sliver of pride. The robes, though a bit too ostentatious for his tastes, were quite handsome in all their silvery, flowing glory. He'd come a long way in the decade he'd spent on Artaeum. Trechtus really _was_ dead, and Psijic Master Vanus Galerion had taken his place.

"Dreadful things, aren't they?" came a voice from somewhere behind Vanus and the tailor who was busy with the hem of his sleeves. Vanus realized with slight disappointment that he couldn't even turn around to face his addressor, but the familiarity of the voice brought a half-hearted smile to his face.

"Oh, most assuredly. Did you feel this trapped when you wore these the first time?"

Mannimarco laughed, coming to stand next to Vanus in the mirror. His green eyes were surrounded by heavy, dark circles and his face was pallid, sending a chill of worry up the younger mer's spine.

"I did. You'll get used to them after a while, though."

Vanus stared at his companion's visage in the mirror for a few long moments, unreadable expression on his face. The tailor finished pinning Vanus and trudged off in search of the right shade of string, leaving the pair alone in the open, sunny room. Mannimarco laid an arm across Vanus's shoulders, resting his head against Vanus's in a rare gesture of vulnerability. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes.

"You know I've been worried, don't you?" the dark-haired mage asked, glancing sidelong at his weary companion.

"I've been so caught up in my work that I forget to breathe," he replied, one hand absentmindedly toying with a pin on Vanus's lengthy sleeve, "I forget to sleep, too."

Vanus chuckled, moving out of the blonde mer's grasp to face him.

"Perhaps you should realize what's most important," he said, smiling. He felt the mood between them shift as he uttered the last word, brilliant green eyes boring into his. Mannimarco looked at him thoughtfully, now grasping his forearm. The blonde's lips were parted as if about to speak, pale face coloured ever so slightly by a red blush. The older mer smiled sincerely at his curiously staring companion before placing a chaste kiss to his lips. Vanus's shock registered in the stiffening of his figure, but he made no move to escape, leaning into Mannimarco almost imperceptibly. As quick as it had happened, it was over and the blonde had pulled back, a strange wistful expression on his face.

"I'll see you at the ceremony, Vanus," he said, hand coming up to lightly stroke the point of Vanus's high cheekbone. He turned and left, footsteps echoing off the undecorated walls. The dark-haired mage wanted nothing more than to run after his companion, to chase him and say all the things he'd longed to say since he first started caring for him. However, the disgruntled tailor chose that moment to return to the room and start sewing Vanus into his new set of robes. All the new Psijic could do was stand and stare at his reflection, heart twitching uncomfortably in his chest, lips tingling where they had met Mannimarco's.

_By the Nine, _he thought, watching with detached fascination as the tailor deftly fixed the seams on his robes, _I'm doomed…_

* * *

Following the grand ceremony that welcomed a new Psijic into the Order, two drunken mer stumbled through the aisles of the library, laughing uncontrollably at nothing. The taller held his shorter companion upright, giggling even harder as he tripped on a raised tile in the floor.

"Shhh," Vanus said, pressing a finger to his lips clumsily. His pursed lips split into a wide grin when he looked at Mannimarco's own smirk. The two had intended to return to their respective rooms following the shockingly rambunctious party that superseded his ceremony. Heavy inebriation from the readily available Cyrodiilic wine had diverted their plans, and instead of safely (albeit sloppily) wandering off to sleep, they had made their way to the archaic library. Neither knew why their paths had brought them there, but neither could find it in their liquor-addled brains to care. Vanus's fingers were intertwined with Mannimarco's, dragging him towards the far side of the gigantic room where several candle-lit tables stood.

"I must admit, my dear," Mannimarco began, plopping down in a chair at one of the tables, "I expected a party filled with stodgy, ancient mages to be a lot less fun."

Vanus followed suit, nearly collapsing into the blonde's lap with uncontrollable laughter.

"They're not _dead,_ Manni! They can still have _fun!_ Though," he added, mind struggling through the haze to think of the correct words, "Though, I think you might be right."

Snickering to himself, the older mer pushed Vanus off his lap. He regarded the new Psijic with a raised eyebrow and an expression of mock surprise as he slowly got to his unsteady feet and sat in the chair opposite him.

"Vanus," Mannimarco said, "I'm always right."

There was a stunned silence for a few precious moments before the pair once again started laughing. Vanus wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and smiled, a deep red blush that was visible even in the meager light of the candle coming up to grace his cheeks. As he calmed down, his eyes started wandering around to the rest of the library, thoughts straying absentmindedly to distant memories. He stole a sideward glance to his companion who was fanning himself haphazardly with his long-fingered hand.

"Mannimarco," Vanus whispered dramatically, leaning across the table towards the older male, "Do you remember that old passage we found about a year ago?"

Mannimarco's green eyes widened in recognition and he nodded.

"Of course I do. You acted so strangely that night," he noted, fixing Vanus with an incredulous stare, "You kept looking at me as if you expected me to attack you!"

Vanus snorted a laugh.

"I wish you would have," he started, throwing all caution to the wind with the encouragement of the drink in his blood, "I even had a dream about it!"

Mannimarco leaned back in his chair, shocked.

"You wanted me to kill you!?" he asked curiously, crossing his arms over his thin chest.

"No, no, no! Not _that _kind of attack," Vanus said quietly, reaching across the table to grab one of Mannimarco's hands. The expression on his face in the low light was something akin to that of a feral animal that had just cornered its prey.

"In fact, I wish you'd have done it earlier today when I was getting my robes fitted," he continued, "I think I would have been much happier out of them."

Slightly unnerved by Vanus's uncharacteristic boldness but invigorated by his display of affection, Mannimarco wound his fingers with his younger companion's, squeezing tightly. Vanus's animalistic grin grew wider as he stood from his seat, moving to stand in front of the blonde mer, bravely weaving his unoccupied hand into the older mer's pale locks.

"Tell me," he said, sifting his fingers through the silken strands, "Tell me you feel the same."

The older mage's eyes bored into Vanus's with unrestrained lust, the grip on his hand tightening.

"I think I'd rather just show you."

With that, the Necromancer stood, pulling Vanus to him in one surprisingly fluid motion. Their lips met feverishly in a rush of emotion, fighting through the layers of intoxication. Vanus found himself pushed up against the table, hands unashamedly roaming over every inch of the body that pinned him there. Mannimarco's talented lips found his neck and bit down lightly, pulling a breathy moan from Vanus's throat.

"I've held back for too long," he said quietly, licking at the bruise his teeth had left on his companion's tanned neck. Vanus couldn't respond verbally, dizzy mind unable to process anything as coherent as an answer. He let his wandering hands settle on Mannimarco's skinny hips, digging his thumbs into the sensitive hollow just above them. The blonde gasped, retaliating by biting at the pointed tip of Vanus's ear. When the echoed implication of Mannimarco's whispered words finally settled into the younger mage's thoughts, Vanus pulled back, regarding him with a decidedly serious expression.

"Then don't."

With a small, devious smile, Mannimarco dragged Vanus out of the room by the hand, leading him back towards the dark-haired mage's paper-coated living quarters.

Mundus and Secunda shone brightly overhead as the two mer staggered away toward the sanctuary they sought, stopping every so often to get lost in one another for a few precious moments. No one else bore witness, no one intruded. The mages spent the rest of the silver-bathed night in each other's arms, repercussions forgotten in the heady thrill of a decade's worth of pent-up emotion. Hatred and worry had fled, leaving only two individuals entwined in a rhythmic catharsis, settling into a comfortable silence when their bodies descended from the high of their release. When Vanus lay peacefully sleeping beside him, Mannimarco lay awake, the first slivers of guilt began creeping into his consciousness as sobriety returned. He was hiding so much from Vanus, it didn't seem right that they had shared such intimacy. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. There would be time yet to talk. For now, he would rest, enjoying the warmth of a loved one next to him.

_There will be time. You can't hide from him forever. Not anymore…_

* * *

Vanus woke slowly that morning. He could hear the relaxing thud of a heartbeat next to his ear and felt the warmth of skin beneath his cheek.

_Mannimarco, _he thought, pressing as close to his new lover as he could, treasuring the feel of him. The blonde mer was already awake, sitting up half-way with Vanus's head on his bare chest. He was staring into space, not even noticing when Vanus turned his head to look at him.

"Mannimarco," he said aloud, lightly tapping the older mage. Mannimarco blinked rapidly for a few seconds, coming out of whatever reverie he'd fallen into in the soft, morning light. When he noticed the pair of mint-green eyes on him, he blanched, mouth agape.

"V-Vanus…" he stuttered, withdrawing his arm that had been draped around his companion's back, "I…"

Clearly, the older mer was at a loss for words. Vanus didn't expect much else from him, though. He knew Mannimarco well enough to understand that he'd probably think he had to apologize for what they'd done. He would assume Vanus had not wanted to spend the night in his arms, that he was just too drunk to say no. Before Mannimarco could voice any of his concerns, Vanus sat up. He held both of the blonde's hands in his own, staring at him in the eye.

"Do you regret it?" he asked bluntly, running a hand through his horribly messy hair.

"What?" Mannimarco answered, still obviously stunned that Vanus was reacting so well.

"Do you regret making love to me? Do you wish that it never happened?"

"No, of course I don't."

"Then we have nothing to discuss about it," Vanus said, squeezing the other male's hands tighter, "I don't regret it. I wanted to be with you, and from all you've shown me, it was easy to infer that you wanted to be with me, as well. Am I incorrect?"

Mannimarco hung his head for a moment, eventually returning his eyes to Vanus's with a devilish smile on his angular features.

"No, you aren't. I've wanted to be with you for an incredibly long time. As for what we did last night, I would prefer if it were more than a one-time occurrence…"

He moved quickly, pulling a more-than-willing Vanus to him roughly and kissing him deeply. His hands had made their down his lover's spine before the loud opening of a door interrupted his ministrations. Vanus pulled back sharply, hurriedly pulling his tangled sheets up to his chest as he faced the intruder.

The rude intrusion had come from a timid teenage student. The skinny youth was breathing heavy and his strawberry hair stuck up in various directions, no doubt from running all the way to the new Psijic's room. He drew back quickly, hands up in a placating gesture.

"I'm…uh, I'm sorry, Master Galerion," he said, stuttering in nervousness and embarrassment at what he'd witnessed. Vanus, slightly angry that he'd been interrupted, glared intimidatingly at the adolescent.

"What is it, Kaele? If this is some nonsense about classes, I will be more than displeased."

"No, sir," Kaele said, clinging to the doorframe, "I wouldn't have barged in if it weren't of the utmost importance. Master Iachesis sent me for you, and believe it or not, for Master Mannimarco as well."

Mannimarco looked at the anxious mer curiously, eyebrow raised.

"For both of us? Now?"

"Yes, sir. A bandit raiding party has attacked the island."

The blonde mage scoffed, flipping an errant lock of hair out of his face.

"He requested us at this hour to deal with a _bandit raiding party? _ Ha! These must be some damned powerful bandits."

Kaele looked between the two, still unsure how to speak to them.

"Indeed, sir. There's more to it, though. They're attacking the Tower."

Both Mannimarco and Vanus's eyes grew wide, attention caught by the mention of the sacred structure.

"Ceporah Tower?" Vanus asked, staring intently at the student. The white-robed mage only nodded carefully, looking at anything except the other mer, "Tell him we'll be down in a few minutes."

Kaele agreed hurriedly, relieved for the excuse to leave the awkward situation he'd walked into.

"Oh, and Kaele?" Vanus asked as he turned around to leave, "Don't…Don't mention this to anyone."

"Yes, sir," he replied curtly, slamming the door behind him and skittering off down the hallway.

"To think, I was planning on spending this morning in bed…" Mannimarco commented angrily, flopping back onto the bed with a huff.

"Think of it this way, dear," Vanus said, lightly trailing his fingers over his lover's hairless chest while he stared out the window, "You'll finally get to fight that 'real battle' you're always raving about."

The thought of finally getting to show off the power he'd gained since he first began lessons as a Psijic student both thrilled and frightened Mannimarco. He had learned a lot from his teachers, yes, but there was much more he knew that no one had taught him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to restrain himself from using those spells…His initial academic interest had developed into a morbid, unhealthy obsession, and his staff was now ready for use after months of trial and error.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

As they got out of bed and dressed, Vanus began to feel the familiar twitch of foreboding in his stomach. He hadn't felt anxious as he lay in Mannimarco's arms. He hadn't felt worried when he was kissing the older mer until he was breathless. As he rushed to the Armoury in yesterday's crinkled silver robes, he began to fret. Something was going to happen, he could feel it. Knowing that he couldn't avoid that something, whatever it turned out to be, he donned the light armour of a battlemage and readied himself, breathing deeply. When Mannimarco stood in the doorway with his new, bizarrely-made staff in hand and a smile on his face, Vanus sighed and gestured onward. He was going to fight, and he would not run from anything.

_Please, Divines, _he prayed as he followed Mannimarco out of the Armoury, _Please let my intuition be wrong…_

* * *

**A/N: I regret nothing. Well, maybe a little. Ehh. **


	5. Rage and Reveries

**A/N: This chapter fought me tooth and nail. I can't say I like it, but at least it's here. OH WELL, I GAVE MY ALL. Real life has been blocking my creative engines as of late. I didn't give up, I just was in for a fight. Ahem. Anyways, here's the darn thing in all its, uh...glory. Thanks again to BladeAgent99 for sticking with it. I'm sorry it took so long.**

**I don't own anything except that which I do. **

**Next chapter should be where things get even more real...**

* * *

"When that nervous little creature said 'bandit raiding party,' I assumed he meant a group of about twenty bandits, not a group large enough to be considered a small army," Mannimarco said, staring unblinkingly at the multitude of barbarians that were sacking the tall, grey-stone tower. Vanus nodded in agreement, shock spells readied in his hands.

The pair stood at the edge of the tree line that lead into the Tower's grounds, looking out at the battle that had begun. Over a hundred bandits of varying shapes and sizes (and _races,_ the blonde mer noticed with some curiosity) were taking their roughly-forged weapons to the residents in cold blood, wrecking lives as well as the delicate sculptures that used to stand along the stone passage into the Tower itself. There were a few other Psijic mages that had joined the fight, but not enough to make a real dent in the enemy lines. Vanus swallowed thickly, quelling the nausea that had surfaced as he looked at the carnage before him. He'd never seen that much blood. It frightened him.

Mannimarco, on the other hand, wore a smile that made the colour drain from Vanus's tanned face. His eyes were aglow with anticipation, as if he was thrilled to be fighting.

"Come on, Vanus. Let's show these buffoons to their graves!"

He ran off into the fray, leaving a very confused Vanus to chase after him. It wasn't long before a few of the attackers had noticed their presence and began assaulting them, too, axes and swords raised high above their heads. Vanus couldn't spare a glance to check on Mannimarco. He had wandered into a group of five of them, circling around him as a wolf pack would their captive prey. Though his heart was pounding in his ears, the dark-haired Psijic found it in himself to take a deep breath and focus, taking stock of every weakness he could see in his advancing opponents.

_Armour is weak at the neck and stomach. Bare hands, no gloves. Shoddy weapons, easily broken._

He caught the bandits off guard with a sudden attack, spinning quickly to launch a particularly vicious shock spell into the face of the one that was creeping up behind him. His other hand planted itself on the metal chest plate of the man on his left, rust seeping out from his fingertips until the sheet of iron had fallen to the ground, useless. He sent another current of vibrant purple lightning through his hand, dropping his enemy to the ground, paralyzed. The remaining three rushed towards him, yelling obscenities into the cool, autumn air. He ducked as the first swung a heavy axe at his head, blade whizzing through the air. Transforming the crackling static in his hands to the biting tingle of ice, Vanus lodged a sword-sharp icicle into the now-exposed abdomen of the axe-wielder. As he fell to the ground bleeding from the wound, the other two swung at the mage in a haphazard rage, obviously blinded by the anger they felt towards the one who fell their companion. Vanus made quick work of them, too, sending out two more ice spikes that found their marks in the jugular of the bandits. Realizing that he was out of immediate danger, Vanus chanced a look around the small battlefield for his companion. The blood that had been pumping wildly through his veins from the rush of battle froze as he saw the other mage.

Mannimarco stood close to the large wooden doors that lead into the tower, teeth bared in a sickening grin. His hands were raised above his head, an eerie indigo light stemming from his fingers into a group of about ten bandits that were in front of him, furiously battling their own kind. Several of them were sporting fatal wounds that should have left them dead, but all of them continued to fight regardless of their physical welfare. Vanus realized with a horrible sinking feeling that, yes, they should have been dead. They _should have, _but they were _not. _ His fellow Psijic was manipulating the bodies of his fallen opponents, laughing darkly all the while. White hot anger seeped into the forefront of his thoughts as he watched the morbid display, hands trembling. He began running over in Mannimarco's direction, but was stopped suddenly by the slam of a warhammer. It had hit him hard in the gut, knocking him to the dry grass and flushing all the air out of his lungs. He rolled out of the way as the thickly-muscled Nord bandit brought his hammer down again, leaving a skull-sized crater of soil where Vanus had been.

"What you think you're runnin' for, mage?" the meaty creature said, staring at Vanus with blue eyes crazy with bloodlust as he managed to stand and ready another spell. The Nord man rushed at him at a barreling speed, warhammer poised to be brought down upon the wiry Altmer's head. Fueled by anger at the situation he'd witnessed not a second ago, Vanus quickly grabbed the stranger's forearm, using his forward momentum to dodge the oncoming weapon. He sent a strong pulse of electricity into the muscle, smiling with delight as the man yelped, letting go of his hammer as the pain jolted into his hand. With his opponent now disarmed, the young mage strengthened the pulse until the wide Nord was on the ground, tremours wracking his body as the current ran through his every nerve.

Vanus stood straight, brushing off his robes.

"I wasn't running."

He glanced around hurriedly, eyes once again landing on Mannimarco who had since gathered even more dead bandits into his unwilling initiative. A group of about twenty-five or thirty now surrounded him, blank stares on their unmoving facial features as their coarse weapons slashed into their living comrades. By now, the pale blonde mage was one of the only individuals left fighting. Several more Psijics and their older students had arrived and had promptly dispatched a large group of the bandits, all attention on the last group of about forty that were trying in vain to eradicate their undead casualties. Vanus ran over to the group without a second thought, pushing through them deftly to stand back-to-back with his former companion.

"Nice of you to join me!" Mannimarco exclaimed as he felt Vanus press close to his back. Vanus didn't reply, sending a large ray of fire out of his palms and into the crowd before him, igniting dead and living fighters a like. The undead fizzled into ash piles as the fell, the live bandits dropping to the ground from spreading burns. Mannimarco took care of the last remaining skirmish with a similar spell, the indigo strings severing themselves from his fingertips. He was about to turn around and congratulate Vanus on their victory as the last ash pile formed, but was quickly assaulted by a barrage of lightning. He deflected each bolt with a ward, realizing with surprise that Vanus had rounded on him and was launching the attacks with an ugly snarl on his usually attractive features. He kept advancing, sending out more and more lighting towards the older mage until his wards were beginning to weaken. All at once, Vanus stopped, his eyes aflame with hurt and anger.

"You _lied!_" he yelled, letting his arms fall to his sides, hands curled into white-knuckled fists, "Every time you told me you weren't falling into darkness, you _lied!_"

Mannimarco backed up a few steps, hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Now, Vanus, I—"

"NO!" Vanus cut him off, "No, you don't get to lie to me again! What would you say, Mannimarco, hmm? Would you say it was all a mistake, that you hadn't _meant _to resurrect them? That you couldn't help yourself? Ha! It's not possible to perform magic powerful enough to raise over twenty-five people from the dead without an incredible amount of practice!"

Mannimarco made no move to answer, stomach twisting as he began to understand the consequences of what he'd chosen to do. The look on Vanus's face shifted from one of justified rage to a wide-eyed expression of utter pain and betrayal, his mint irises glazing over.

"Why? Why would you choose this…this obsession over everything you've ever known, everything you've ever cared about? Why would you choose this over…me?" Vanus shook his head, lips drawn into a thin line.

"You…You need to stop this, Mannimarco. You need to go back to the palace with me and try to fix this. This is no way to wield the power you've got, it needs to stop."

The blonde mage felt anger rise in his chest as he listened. He took a step towards Vanus, lip curled back in a sneer.

"Who are you to tell me what I _need _to do? You have no right to tell me to do _anything, _much less how to use my talents! I will do whatever I want and use whatever_ spells_ I want to fight my battles, and you aren't going to stop me!"

"So that's it, then? You're going to forsake everything because you're too stubborn to admit that what you're doing is wrong?"

"In whose mind is it wrong, yours? Hah! I think you're just afraid because you've seen my real power and know you couldn't possibly contend with it if we were to fight."

Vanus stared at him in utter shock at his arrogance.

"I am afraid," he said, voice cracking around the lump that had formed in his throat, "but not of fighting you. I'm afraid that you're in over your head and won't realize it until it's too late. I'm afraid that the power you've gained will warp you until there's nothing of real _you _left."

"What would you know about the 'real' me, Vanus? Did you think you really understood me?" He let out a single breathy laugh, eyes wide with frustration and anger, "You saw what I wanted you to see. You knew what I wanted you to know. I'm not ashamed in the least that I hid from you. I knew you'd lose your mind over it. I also knew that you'd go off on some righteous tirade about how 'wrong it is' of me to adopt the art of necromancy. Don't you see, Vanus? Don't you see that I can gain even more power through it? I'm on the verge of doing something no one else has ever done! You should be pleased, honoured, even! When I stand at the Throat of the World as the most powerful being in existence, you will feel proud to have known me!"

With a broken yell, Vanus sent another bolt of electricity at Mannimarco. The older mer managed to block in time, retaliating with a long plume of fire aimed directly at his former companion's dark-haired head. The surviving Psijic mages watched the dueling pair with horrified interest, none daring to interfere as rays of intertwined fire and lightning erupted from their hands.

"Enough!" came a loud, intimidating voice accompanied by a large spike of ice that planted itself threateningly between the fighting mer. The small crowds of spectators were beginning to separate, leaving a small path between them. Iachesis walked down the path stoically, one hand still raised and readied with the powerful spell he'd used to interrupt them.

"That is enough," he said, stepping up to them with a stern expression on his aging features.

"Master—" Vanus began, but immediately halted when he saw the glare that the ancient Psijic was giving him.

"We will speak once we return to the palace. Until then, I will not hear a word from either of you," he looked at both of them, grey-green eyes harsh, "Are we clear?"

Vanus nodded quickly, hanging his head as a guilty child would. Mannimarco just stared at him with a look of barely restrained rage, biting down hard enough on his lip to make it bleed.

"Good."

Iachesis began leading the disgruntled pair back towards the palace, sinking feeling in his core. Deep down, he supposed he knew something like this would happen. He shouldn't have been careless enough to let them get this wrapped up in each other. He knew what he had to do.

_I'm sorry, my children, _he thought as they walked, _I'm sorry it had to come to this._

* * *

Vanus sat outside the large, circular room that he'd been welcomed into when he first arrived. Mannimarco was in the room with the entirety of the Psijic leadership, awaiting his fate. Vanus had explained the events of the battle in excruciating detail while he'd remained silent, not even bothering to refute any of the facts Vanus had brought to light. A few times, the younger mage could've sworn he even saw the blonde mer smiling. The thought made him feel sick. Just earlier that morning, they'd been so close. Now, as he stared at the marble floors and felt the orange light of the setting sun warming his back, he realized how wrong he had been to trust so easily. Mannimarco had been lying all along, and he should've known better.

_Now who's the blind one?_

"Vanus."

The mer drew his eyes up, staring emotionlessly into the face of his addressor. Iachesis stood before him, hands behind his back with a solemn expression on his features. Vanus shook his head once, watching with interest as Mannimarco was lead out of the room behind the aging master. He was flanked by two Psijics on either side, the two closest to him gripped his upper arms. He didn't even turn his head as they lead him off down the expansive hallway, piercing green eyes staring straight ahead. Vanus wanted badly to say something to him, but bit his tongue. The time for civil, mending words between them had passed.

"What's going to happen to him?" the young Psijic asked, licking his lips nervously as he watched the group leave the path.

"He will be sent to the mainland on an errand. We decided it would be best if he were away from Summerset for a while, in hopes that he might remember himself."

Vanus's attention perked. He stood, giving his former master an incredulous stare.

"You would send him to the mainland after everything I just told you? Don't you realize what he's going to do?"

Iachesis refused to look ruffled, replying to Vanus's inquiry with a snort of laughter.

"I would assume he'd do as any troubled student would. Think on his mistakes and come back ready to learn from them."

Vanus gawked open-mouthed at the idiocy of the mage in front of him. He crossed his arms, brows furrowing in frustration.

"You really don't see it, do you? He's going to take this as a golden opportunity, Master. You think he'd go to mainland Tamriel and come back ready to repent? Ha! He doesn't care what _any _of us think of him! He's not going to learn from this, he's going to make it worse. All you've done is set a hungry wolf on a defenseless flock of sheep!"

"What makes you think you have any right to talk to me in such a manner, Vanus Galerion?" Iachesis asked, growing angry, "It was the decision of the Order and it was the _correct _decision! You can either stand aside and agree with our verdict, or you cannot. If you choose the latter rather than the former, you can leave as well. The Psijic Order does not need any more members that have a problem respecting their elders."

Though Vanus looked as if he were ready to explode, he remained silent. The only give-away of the turmoil he felt inside was the stiffness of his figure, the tightening of his jaw. His eyes never wavered from his stubborn former teacher's, blazing with unspoken rage.

"Fine," he said quietly, "I will. As of today, I am no longer part of the Psijic Order."

Without another word, he quickly unfastened the intricate silver broach holding the trademark grey cloak of the Psijics around his shoulders, letting it drop to a murky pool of heavy fabric at his feet. He stepped out of it, eyeing Iachesis seriously before walking off hurriedly, never looking back. He heard the Master calling his name, but refused to halt.

_These fools will pay for their mistake, _he thought to himself as he trudged down the winding hallways, on his way to his room. He would pack quickly and leave on a ferry that night, skin itching to be rid of Artaeum and all the stupidity that he had unearthed. As he did so, he replayed the entire events of the day, wondering silently when everything had gone so wrong. Mannimarco was a liar, Iachesis was an idiot, and he was a fool for never seeing it before...

* * *

**A/N: Good lord...**


	6. Bruises and Beginnings

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AS LONG AS IT DID. Truthfully, a family emergency took me out of commission for quite a long while. I was actually whisked off to deal with it while I was in the middle of this chapter. Fortunately, everything turned out okay, including the chapter! I hope it's worth it. Enjoy!**

**-Hurricane-chan**

**P.S.: I think I have at least 4 chapters left...**

* * *

Vanus arrived on Alinor as the first aureate light of morning began to peek over the seemingly endless ocean. Were the situation different, he would've taken the time to admire the glorious colours that the sun's pale rays were casting over the undulating water, and thought deeply on the sheer beauty of the world around him. However, his circumstances had remained the same since he fled Artaeum the night before. A bitter taste rose in the back of his mouth as the repulsive images came flooding into the forefront of his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't put them out of his mind, couldn't prevent them from resurfacing. Mannimarco was there in all of them, grinning like a madman as he committed crimes against nature that made Vanus tremble in disgust. His fingernails dug into the polished wood of the ferry's railing as he reminisced, staring out into the waves without really seeing them. He was vaguely aware of the salty wind in his mussed hair and of the harbor lying just before the vessel, but felt incapable of acknowledging either.

"Firsthold, sir," said one of the crewmembers to Vanus. Vanus replied with a curt nod, wrapping his arms around himself as if struck by a sudden chill. He had had plenty of time to regret leaving the Order and his home on Artaeum, but he found himself only capable of feeling an overwhelming amount of weariness. Seasalt matted his hair, his robes were damp with ocean spray, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. All ideas for progressing in life could wait until after he'd gotten some real sleep, he figured. He reluctantly withdrew from his reverie, opening his eyes wide and finally allowing himself to view the approaching island.

The capital of Alinor was as gorgeous as the former Psijic remembered it to be from the travelling days of his youth. Tall, elegant alabaster towers gleamed in the golden light of breaking day, framed by the sloping, cream-coloured roofs and columned entrances of stately homes and shops. Tropical trees stood proudly waving in the breeze before the white shell-stone wall that separated the docks from the city, the sea from the land. It had been long since Vanus had been here last. _Over a decade, _he realized with some shock. The docks they were gliding up to were well-kept and lit by candles in intricate, wrought-iron torch holders, casting a fading glow along the wooden surfaces. The captain guided his ship to one of the piers with ease, sending up another crewmember to collect the young mage's fee as he moved to exit. He gave the seafaring mer a shy smile before departing, shaky legs almost giving out as he left the boat and felt his feet on solid ground for the first time in nearly a day. He gripped the candle post quickly, fighting back a wave of nausea. The gruff dock-keeper gave him an odd look and shook his head, but said nothing as Vanus fought to gain his bearings.

"Long night," he said to the dock-keeper with a weak chuckle. The rough-looking mer snorted and walked away down the boardwalk, keeping his earthen eyes to the sea-eroded wood beneath his moving feet.

"Fine," Vanus muttered to himself, waving off the disgruntled male with a careless flip of his hand. He wasn't going to let himself get upset over someone like that when he had much more important things to fret over, like finding an inn to rest his head until he could do better.

It didn't take long for him to realize that he was quite lost in the large, pristine city. Yes, he'd gone as a child when he was still under Heliand's care, but his memories of it were as fuzzy as the image of Mannimarco was clear. He spent several hours walking the streets, feet growing increasingly sore as he trudged along the stone. No inns, no one willing to help him find one. The nerve of some people.

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Vanus sank down to the ground on the marble steps of what appeared to be a library, cradling his head in his hands.

"Lost, friend?" asked a voice from somewhere beside him, "I've seen you pass this way at least three times. Either you've lost _someone _and are looking for them, or it's _you _that's lost. Which one is it?"

Vanus lifted his head and found himself staring into the large, hazel eyes of a copper-haired male Bosmer. The shorter mer wore the simple clothes and unassuming expression of a typical peasant, but held an air of sincerity that the former Psijic was pleasantly surprised to discover. He had plopped down on the stairs next to Vanus and was staring at him with curiosity painted on his sun-tanned features.

"That would be me, I'm afraid. I got off the ferry this morning and I was, uh…decidedly unprepared. I have no idea where to go in this place. I've searched everywhere for a decent inn, but no one has cared to even point me in the right direction."

"That sounds like just about every other traveler I've met, honestly! This place is a maze to the untrained eye. Fortunately, I learned my way around, who to trust, places to trust, that sort of thing." The shorter mer held out his small, calloused hand to Vanus, grinning widely.

"The name's Riverwing," he said as Vanus accepted the handshake, "Yours?"

"Vanus Galerion," he answered quietly, eyeing Riverwing with slight unease. It was rare to find someone so eager to help in a city as large as Firsthold, but he knew with unsettling certainty that he was in no position to refuse any help that this new companion was willing to offer. When he drew his hand back, the redhead grinned earnestly, moving to stand. Vanus joined him a second later, noticing with interest how his new companion's eyes squinted as he thought, hand resting below his chin. A few moments passed like this, Vanus watching uncomfortably as the short Bosmer appeared to rifle through his innermost musings. Eventually, a spark of clarity lit up the angled, hazel depths. Riverwing gasped in happy surprise, clapping his hands together excitedly. The Altmer kept staring at him in uneasy confusion even through the dramatic shift in behavior.

"What is it?" he asked tentatively, catching himself before he managed to take a step back from the energetic, copper-headed mer.

"I think I know where we can put you! For now, at least. You'll be able to look for some more permanent lodgings once you've actually had a place to rest your head," Riverwing answered, toothy grin widening as if he'd just discovered the largest cache of gold in the Isles.

"Where would that be?" Vanus inquired again. Riverwing just kept smiling.

"The Pale Seafarer, of course! I can't _believe _I didn't think of it when you mentioned your desperate need of lodging!"

"I hate to continue badgering you with more questions, but…" Vanus shrugged as he spoke, giving Riverwing an expression that he hoped registered as utter confusion. Riverwing threw his head back and laughed, gaze returning to Vanus once he'd calmed down.

"Oh right," he chirped lightly, "I didn't even tell you what it was. The Pale Seafarer is a sort of boarding house and bar. I guess I just assumed you'd know it since it seems to be relatively popular, but that was foolish of me to think given how new you are. I've lived there for the past…six years or so, along with a few other Bosmer and some Altmeri fishermen who don't have time to settle down and get their own place. There are a few open beds left and I'm in pretty good standing with the owner, so I'm sure I can manage to set you up with one for a relatively miniscule price. Interested?"

Though an irrational part of his consciousness was screaming at him to distrust the friendly stranger, he nodded his assent and nodded towards the street.

"Lead the way, Riverwing," he said quietly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. The Bosmer gave Vanus one last grin before turning on his heel and walking off into the slowly busying street, motioning for the brunette Altmer to follow. All outward traces of hesitance lost in exhaustion and the desperate need for a sense of security, he kept pace with his new companion's short stride. Deep down, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief as they strolled in comfortable silence along the pale-stoned roads; his life was going to begin anew, away from the haunting horrors of Artaeum.

"It's a start," he mumbled to himself, enjoying the sensation of an ocean breeze caressing the skin of his face, "It's a start."

* * *

"Not bad, not bad," Vanus said to Riverwing as his turquoise eyes scanned the shockingly well-kept entranceway of The Pale Seafarer. The place hadn't looked like much from the outside with its peeling paint and worn steps, but the comfortable interior made up for the poor exterior. It was a warming atmosphere, slowly burning candles sitting in their metal sconces upon dark-wooded walls. The dining room was set up with fine silverware, blue ceramic plates and pristine glasses, empty of food and drink. A happily crackling fire was burning in the living area's hearth when he and his Bosmeri friend had walked up to the desk in the center of the lobby.

"Riverwing!" chimed the female clerk behind the desk, another Bosmer with the same brilliant red hair, "I thought you were helping Aeryna with that shipment of salt today."

"I was," he answered, leaning comfortably over the countertop, "But I found this poor fellow wandering around the city without a clue where to go. The salt could wait. Rhissa, this is Vanus Galerion. Vanus, this is Rhissa, my sister."

Vanus stepped up to the desk without grace, hoping his mage's robes and overall appearance wouldn't throw him off in a place like this. He extended his hand in greeting, nodding to Rhissa with a shy smile.

"It's nice to meet you," he noted as she accepted his greeting, subconsciously taking in all of the similarities between the siblings.

"Is our lovely landlady in?" Riverwing asked casually, twirling a lock of hair around one of his fingers. Rhissa rolled her eyes but nodded, walking out from around the counter to stand next to her brother.

"Yes, she's in. What nonsense have you got planned this time? Not another get-together with the folk from the docks, I hope. _I_ had to clean up after that mess, Riverwing! I refuse to go through that again!" she spoke strongly, leaning in closer to her sibling as if to intimidate him. He raised his hands quickly, taking a fearful step away from her.

"No, it's nothing like that, I promise! I just wanted to see if she'd be willing to rent Vanus here a bed."

Rhissa stood back, hands on her curvy hips. She appraised her brother with slight disbelief before darting her bark-coloured eyes back and forth between him and Vanus. It was obvious she was looking for signs of treachery. Vanus swallowed thickly, stomach twitching in nervousness. He sincerely hoped that the apparent sibling rivalry wouldn't get between him and a comfortable place to sleep. After all, the dark circles under his eyes certainly weren't getting any smaller…

"Fine, I'll talk to her," the Wood Elf woman said, "But I better not catch wind of any more parties! If you have one and I find out, I'll ship you back to Valenwood in a wine barrel!"

With one last narrowed glance at her kin, she turned on her heel, skirts swirling about her ankles. She headed up the stairs with frustration-laden footsteps, leaving the pair of males alone, wide-eyed.

"Good! That takes care of that," Riverwing noted with a sigh of relief.

"What parties is she talking about?" Vanus asked, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. Riverwing visibly tensed, turning to look at his Altmer companion with a lopsided, guilty grin.

"Well, I may or may not have thrown a few get-togethers that left the entire boarding house in shambles. Nothing violent, mind you, just a little, uh…rowdy. I'm sure you can imagine how some of the fisherman and dockworkers can be. Rhissa doesn't really trust me after the _last_ one…"

Vanus nodded slowly, not really willing to pry any further.

"So," he began, gesturing to the stairs, "Can I see where I'll be staying?"

"Well, we should probably wait to see what the landlady says, but I don't see the harm in at least showing you your room. Just don't unpack anything!"

They set up the stairs in the direction that Rhissa had gone, Riverwing in the lead. He went left at the top of the staircase, down a lengthy hallway with open doors on either side. He stopped at the fourth one on the right-hand side, gesturing into the room with an arm outstretched.

"Right here," he said, leaning on the side of the doorframe.

The room itself was relatively spacious, a neatly-made bed arranged in each corner with a handsome wooden nightstand attached to the open side. Three looked as if they were used regularly, as the maroon linens had small wrinkles and the nightstands were sparsely decorated. The one in the upper right corner was pristine and untouched, undoubtedly the one intended for Vanus. The singular, large window was open, allowing the seabreeze to pleasantly fill the space, its pale curtains fluttering lightly in the zephyr. Vanus inhaled deeply, feeling relaxation seep over him as he stood in the center of the room.

"I share this room with two Altmeri sailors that make monthly trips to and from Cyrodiil. They left just last night for another. I hope this is alright with you," the copper-haired Bosmer said quietly.

"It's perfect," Vanus returned, moving to the window in a few short strides, "I think it'll be just fine."

Riverwing was a little shocked that Vanus didn't even bother to inquire about his other roommates, but brushed it off. The other mer appeared to have much more on his mind than questions about people he had no interest in. He followed the mage over to the window, looking out onto the oceanic scenery beyond the clear pane.

"Well, we missed lunch, and dinner is in about two hours or so," Riverwing spoke, "We can spend some time out on the dock, if you'd like, until then."

He threw a casual inquiring glance to Vanus, waiting for his answer. When the brunette Altmer nodded, he smiled sincerely, placing a hand on Vanus's shoulder.

"Come on," he said, "There's more to this place than just one room. Let's visit the sea!"

Vanus spent the rest of the day getting a grand tour of all the Pale Seafarer's features at Riverwing's insistent behest. They returned to the dining hall as the sun was setting, an orange globe resting low on the water. Dinner passed quickly for the Altmer as he sat amongst the various occupants, catching snippets of conversation every so often. As expected, Riverwing chatted with several people before finishing his meal and collecting his new roommate who had been sitting with an empty plate for quite a while.

"Fortunately," he began as he and a very weary Vanus left the hall, "I managed to convince the landlady to rent you that bed. She wasn't too keen on taking any requests from _me_ at first, but she came around. The fourth bed in our room is yours!"

"I really appreciate this," Vanus replied, slowly following as Riverwing ascended the staircase, "I would've been in quite the situation if you hadn't come up to me this morning."

"Don't mention it. I'm sure you'd have done the same."

The pair of mer walked the rest of the way to their shared room in comfortable silence. Vanus's exhausted mind was focused only on its absolute need for sleep, and the bed was practically beckoning him into its welcoming embrace. Unable to resist, he flopped down onto it, sighing heavily.

"Early night then, I guess," Riverwing said with a chuckle.

"Yes. Most definitely."

Shadows clouded the former Psijic's eyes as he lay. Soon, the world would go dark and his tired muscles would be still. Before sleep could claim him completely, he managed to vocalize one last thought.

"Riverwing?" he said, voice muffled by the pillow.

"Yes?"

"Thank you…"

* * *

"_Vanus," purred a voice in his ear, silken and sultry, "Open your eyes."_

_He did as was instructed. He found himself staring into a familiar face, the gaze of emerald orbs sending shivers through his very core. The mer's pale blonde hair fell in curtains around his face, tickling his cheeks. Mannimarco was looking down at him with a soft smile on his angular features, the skin on his face warmly flushed. Gone was the pallor Vanus had become accustomed to, replaced by a healthy glow that he swore he'd never see again._

"_I thought you'd never come back," Vanus said quietly, moving one of the hands by his side up to rest on the blonde mer's bare back. He traced the contours of lean muscle sensuously with his fingertips, drawing a contented sigh from the man above him. All at once, the younger mer became aware of the weight pressing him down from chest to toe. It was welcome. Wanted. Desired. After all, one night of physical solace was most certainly not enough._

"_What makes you think I'd ever really leave?" the necromancer asked, leaning down to capture Vanus's eagerly awaiting lips in a bruising kiss, feverish and heated. Vanus could feel himself drowning in the sensation, fervently reciprocating the affection with every sweep of his tongue over his lover's, every lusciously decadent movement of the taller mage's hips against his. He felt long-fingered hands weave their way into his knotted hair, stroking and pulling to the rhythm of their mouths. His body was growing hot, too hot. He latched on to the desperation for touch that their actions had drawn out of him, and when Mannimarco broke their kiss, he whined in disappointment. The other mer only laughed lightly, the sound beautiful to Vanus's ears._

"_I'm always here, Vanus," he said, releasing Vanus's hair to trail a hand down his chest, settling on his hip. Vanus closed his eyes, relishing the caresses as a starving man would a meal. The other mer was drawing circles on his skin, placing gentle kisses on his neck, collar bone, stomach…Every sensation was vibrant and real, alighting a fire in his gut that he thought he'd never again be capable of feeling. He sighed, letting the hand that was on Mannimarco fall back to the bed beneath him. Mannimarco laughed against the jut of the brunette's hip, clearly amused by Vanus's reaction. _

_Just as Vanus felt himself wanting to drag his lover to him and truly begin the dance that would ultimately end in their mutual release, the contact ceased completely. There was no comforting weight pressing him down, no arousing kisses pressed to his beautifully burning skin. Even the very warmth of the room had evaporated, a new chill filling the space with awful urgency. He didn't open his eyes, praying silently that nothing had truly changed and it was just a morbid spectre in his imagination playing tricks on him._

"_Open your eyes, Vanus" came Mannimarco's voice again, a cold, serpentine whisper in his ear. Icy hands planted themselves on either side of his face, pointed fingernails biting painfully into his cheekbones. Vanus closed his eyes tighter, refusing to bear witness to whatever change had occurred._

"_Open your eyes!" _

_It was a command. Harsh, bereft of any benevolent emotion. Vanus wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground and disappear, but he had already lost control of his body. Though he fought against the urge, he couldn't endure the pressure. He obeyed._

_The mer hovering over him was paler than death, deep, dark hollows surrounding piercing green eyes that froze Vanus's heart instantly. The blonde hair that framed his face was dull and lifeless, devoid of the shine of good health. There was a wide, sick smile playing on his lips, frightening to behold. _

"_I told you," he said, increasing his grip on Vanus's face, "I'm always here, Vanus. I always will be."_

_Vanus wanted to scream and thrash, anything to throw the undead creature off him. When he tried, he found that his bones were leaden, limbs dead weight. Even his voice couldn't breach the glacial air. He was powerless to stop the inevitable._

_Mannimarco caught his lips once more, the freezing touch of dead flesh repulsive enough to make Vanus's stomach churn violently. Slowly, he drew every living breath out of Vanus's lungs, devouring his life with every passing second. Vanus felt himself dying, felt his skin tightening as his very soul was extracted into the maw of the lich. He could do nothing but let it happen, vision becoming blurrier and blurrier. He was silenced._

_He was lost._

Vanus woke with a start, heart thudding powerfully in his chest. He was sitting up in his bed, breathing unsteadily. Riverwing sat on the edge of the mattress close to him, a concerned expression on his face. He held a candle in his free hand, the other one having found purchase on Vanus's trembling shoulder. It took the nervous mage a few seconds of panicked scanning and rationalizing to recognize his surroundings, hateful disorientation still flooding his overwhelmed senses.

"It's alright," Riverwing said, soothingly rubbing his shoulder, "It was just a nightmare."

Vanus stared at him with wide-eyed confusion, slowly regaining his bearing. Riverwing didn't seem flustered by his crazed scrutiny, worried look never wavering in the tremulous orange glow of the candle's flame. Vanus focused on breathing deeply, letting the details of his wakeful world return with garbled clarity.

"You were yelling in your sleep," the Bosmer noted, withdrawing his hand cautiously, as if Vanus would lash out at him.

Vanus paid no attention to the comment.

"I need air," he gasped, quickly throwing off the covers and pushing past Riverwing. He walked out of the room hurriedly, aware of the cold sweat that had broken out on his neck and forehead. He rushed down the stairs and out of the building, Riverwing following his hasty movements with some difficulty. The Altmer had thrown open the front door carelessly and trudged off onto the dock, gaze directed to the calm, moonlit sea. Riverwing kept his distance for a few moments, allowing Vanus some time to collect his thoughts.

They stood there at the end of the Pale Seafarer's pier for several silent minutes. Vanus was breathing deeply, willing himself to calm down. Every detail of his horrific dream was still vivid, from the warmth of Mannimarco's living touch to the hideous feeling of his life being drawn out. He had sincerely hoped that he'd be free of the necromancer when he left Artaeum, but his mind plagued him with images of the pale mer even in his sleep. He couldn't get away from him. Even the dream-Mannimarco had told him so.

"He was right."

"Who was right?" Riverwing asked, stepping a bit closer to his new companion. Vanus looked at him with a solemn expression that left the redhead in confusion.

"I don't know you very well, Riverwing, but…" Vanus started hesitantly, "There are thoughts that I feel I can't keep locked inside much longer."

"If you're willing to talk," Riverwing answered, leaning against the dock's railing, "Then I'm willing to listen."

Vanus swallowed dryly, gathering his courage. Without another comment, he began his story. Every so often, Riverwing would nod or comment to show his attentiveness, reassuring in light of the night terror.

By the time he had finished, the first glow of daylight was beginning to crest over the expansive ocean, stars fading into the remainder of sheer darkness. Vanus felt somewhat liberated by telling his tale, but part of him couldn't help but feel as if he'd inexcusably burdened his new, no, his _only_ friend. Riverwing, for his part, was unperturbed.

"Vanus," he said at long last, "Everything happens for a reason. There was a reason for his actions, just as there was a reason for you coming here. It's a fresh start, a chance to move on."

As he watched the sun rise in peace only interrupted by the occasional call of a gull and the whisper of wind on his face, Vanus began to feel the first slivers of real, tangible hope creep into his thoughts.

"I think you might be right," he said to Riverwing, a smile ghosting over his features quickly, gone as swiftly as it had come.

He was ready to move on.

**A/N: I think I'm up for Mannimarco's perspective next. Oh, the joys of transforming into a lich outlined in vivid, graphic detail. HUZZAH. Review if it strikes your fancy. HUH.**


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